


and when you get old and start losing your hair (can you tell me who will still care-are-are)

by ahatfullofoctarine (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Science Experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ahatfullofoctarine
Summary: Galra Industries was a sprawling megaplex, thirteen (thankfully) reinforced floors of R&D dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and the betterment of mankind, where the odd explosion here and there was explicitly stated to be the norm, and the Fire Department allegedly slated to have two of their guys set aside to be on speed dial, whatever the day, whatever the hour.Specifically, for the maniac on the seventh floor.





	and when you get old and start losing your hair (can you tell me who will still care-are-are)

**Author's Note:**

> for the [ShattSunday November prompt](https://shattsunday.tumblr.com/post/179648453150/shattsunday-challenge-november-prompts): Something had gone terribly wrong. 
> 
> We have a Discord Server for folks who love this pair, just message the wonderful admins @shattsunday on tumblr and they'll happily show you the door :D
> 
> Happy Guy Fawkes! I needed something semi-related to this weird holiday and all the fireworks going off at my place.

Prior to the PA announcement, and well before the alarms went off, perhaps half a second into the moment the seventh floor started to shake  - the funny thing about all this was that Shiro _Knew_.

 

 _Had_ Known.

 

 _Knew Better Than_ to leave that scatterbrain unattended - yet he did.

 

And forget sixth sense; Shiro was sure he’d - _zip, flush, wash, sidestep all the ‘concerned’ colleagues asking after Professor Holt_ \-  developed the fucking _seventh_.

 

In Shiro's defence, it wasn't as if the snooze button For When Nature Called was infinite, and there was no way in hell he was going to get a UTI _on top of_ the ulcer he’d been developing the day he signed on to play lab assistant to one of Earth's greatest minds of Shiro’s generation.  

 

Or; in Shiro's words: ‘Glorified Fire Extinguisher to a one, Incredulously Flammable Matthew Holt’.

 

(It was good money, and Shiro wasn’t complaining. Actually, it was _Too Good to Be True-_ money; as if the higher-ups were one tiny step away from blatantly tossing it at Shiro just to keep him there, given the high turnover prior to his arrival.)

 

. . . 

 

Galra Industries was a sprawling megaplex, thirteen (thankfully) reinforced floors of R&D dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and the betterment of mankind, where the odd explosion here and there was explicitly stated to be the norm, and the Fire Department allegedly slated to have two of their guys set aside to be on speed dial, whatever the day, whatever the hour.  

 

Specifically, for the maniac on the seventh floor.

 

CEO’s words, not Shiro’s. Shiro thought Matt, barring his daily death-defying stunts - was a genius who just a) happened to be a little more hands- _on_ than was considered sensible, b) have a bankroll that exceeded the known universe, and c) have an insurance policy that felt like it had been drafted by cats.

 

Some days, Matt just caught fire without help of a catalyst.  Those were the days when Shiro knew another scrub of the lab for quintessence particles was needed. It had been Matt’s dream to work with the world’s foremost authority on the element, and it really didn’t help Matt’s case that Doctor Daibazaal was ten times more attractive and ethereal in person.  Shiro knewknew _fuckingknew_ he’d wind up paying for it, but he’d put off that trip to Hawaii long enough, so he went ‘fuck it’ anyway and got on that plane with Adam.

 

Of course, Adam also went ‘fuck it’ too, and  broke up with him on the return flight over, but honestly? Still the best vacation ever. The decision Shiro’d made in that moment had felt justifiably philosophical almost: the mess was there when he left, and it would be there - minus the hapless intern HR’d had transferred on the CEO’s orders to cover for Shiro -  when he got back. According to OHS, the intern was hospitalized the third day Shiro was gone. Lotor had an unnerving sense of humor sometimes.

 

(Or perhaps ‘perverted sense of justice’ was more apt. The intern had apparently been due for the boot because she’d been selling Galra Tech to their competitors, and Lotor needed to reassert dominance.)

 

“No sweep today.” Shiro muttered, keycard in his mouth. He had a fire-extinguisher tucked under one arm while he keyed the deactivation code into the control panel.  Just a fire-extinguisher, and a quick text to the Fire Chief saying that Keith and Lance wouldn’t be needed this afternoon. Nothing more. Shiro’s phone had access to the live feed inside Matt’s lab, and Matt hadn’t been tinkering in what Matt morbidly referred to as the ‘Sparky, Sparky Boom-Boom’ quadrant. See, Tuesdays were normally his _off_ -days. Matt only played bass-pumping rap music or deafening rock on his _on_ -days.

 

Ergo, fire extinguisher in tow and Enya in the background when Shiro finally found him.

 

“Wee-ooh-woo! That was a doozy, wasn't it!” Matt grinned, blinking up through the foam at Shiro when [Only Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wfYIMyS_dI)was finally put on pause. He looked like Father Christmas.

 

(This wasn’t the time to point this out though. Matt would relish that, and all the puns _that_ comparison entailed. Dear God.)

  
"Matt.” Shiro began, from the sane end of the fire extinguisher, "don’t take this the wrong way, but you should probably switch to a ‘hobby’ that isn’t so...uh...”    
  
“Time consuming?” Matt supplied, albeit deliriously from the charred crater where he lay presently.  Shiro set down the extinguisher, pulled up a half-burnt stool and sat.

  
“All hobbies are time-consuming,” he replied. “I was leaning more toward uh...”

  
“Ambitious?  Awe-inspiring?"

  
“Life-threatening, Matthew” said Shiro, exasperated. “Christ, it’s almost like you have zero sense of self-preservation.”

  
“ _Science_ ,” Matt crooked a finger witheringly at Shiro, a sort of maniacal glint in his eye--not unlike the look he gave Lotor when justifying a new project in front of The Board,  "has _zero_ use for self-preservation. The pursuit of knowledge is the most noble of all--”

  
“--noble of all pursuits, yeah we all drive past that sign on the way in,” Shiro had to cut him off before that monologue could _really_ gain traction.  “That’s all well and good, I don’t dispute that. It’s just.” Shiro sighed, one hand running through his hair.

 

God, this was worse than telling off Keith for wagging school. The key difference between the two was that Matt genuinely, _terrifyingly_ , always believed he _wasn’t_ in the wrong. Matt had the kind of smile that made you forget whatever it was you were annoyed with him about, and he knew it, and _you bet your goddamn ass_ he abused it.  Shiro was yet another sucker in a long list of prede-suckers. One thing Shiro _did_ have going for him was that he, unlike the others, was _dating_ Matt.  

 

“Just... _what_ , Shiro.”

 

“Well,” Shiro shrugged, wracking his mind for the conversation he’d had over drinks with the latter the night before. Jesus. He’d said that as a _joke_ and Matt had risen to the challenge.  

 

“Earth to Shiro.” Matt said.

 

“Matt. Baby, listen: waffle irons were specifically invented to make _waffles_ , you know? _Not_ enable time-travel.”

  
Matt was quiet as he took this in. Worried, he’d crushed his dreams, Shiro quickly tried to backtrack:

  
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re brilliant.  I just think maybe you should consider--”

“No, you’re right,” Matt admitted with a sigh. “Waffle irons are a terrible idea.” In a quieter voice (though not so quiet that Shiro couldn’t overhear) he added, “too small scale, not enough hardware. Maybe if I—”

  
“Touch the sixth-floor particle accelerator and I’ll roast you alive.” Lotor interrupted curtly over the PA.  “Shirogane, I expect a detailed report on my desk within the hour. That will be all.”

"Maybe _he_ should get a new hobby," Matt muttered.


End file.
